


Thinking in Symmetry

by ionsquare



Series: The Canvas Was Free [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/pseuds/ionsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott wakes up he knows immediately that he’s human again. He hasn’t been human since he was sixteen, so when he sits up slowly, flexing his fingers and his toes, he also has another sinking realization—</p><p>He’s in Stiles’ body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking in Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eveningowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveningowl/gifts).



> Another fic in the tropes meme I've been making my way through, and this time it's bodyswap! I tagged 'non-con drug use' because there's mention of drinking at a party, and the drinks being spiked unbeknownst to anyone, which thus leads to Scott and Stiles swapping bodies.
> 
> I happened to be listening to _Tiger Kit_ by Sleigh Bells, which is the title. (I'm so unoriginal with titles.)

When Scott wakes up he knows immediately that he’s human again. He hasn’t been human since he was sixteen, so when he sits up slowly, flexing his fingers and his toes, he also has another sinking realization—

He’s in Stiles’ body.

"F _uuuuu_ ck,” he groans.

The sheriff pokes his head in the room, eyebrows shooting up.

"Still hungover?"

"You… you could say that," Scott says with Stiles’ voice.

"C’mon, I’ll make you something good and greasy."

Scott winds up having a mild panic attack, rips a pair of Stiles’ boxers, and proceeds to trip down half the stairs, because what the fuck are Stiles’ legs?

"I’m not even going to ask," the sheriff says.

Scott’s grateful, and he—they—really need to figure this out, before Stiles does something stupid with his new wolf powers.

*

Stiles should be riding the high of just turning twenty-one last night, but instead he’s lying in Scott’s bed, staring at all the pillows he clawed apart in his sleep.

"Fuck!" He yells, and it isn’t his voice, and it’s so, so weird.

Melissa McCall comes running up the stairs, bursting in the room brandishing a knife.

"What is it?"

"Mel—Mom! It’s nothing. I just—"

"You murdered all your pillows," she says, walking over to the bed, giving him an odd look. "You haven’t done that in… years."

Stiles grimaces, sliding out of bed.

"I’m gonna… take a shower, and stuff."

Melissa eyes him warily.

"Breakfast will be ready when you’re done," she says, disappearing out of the room with her knife.

Stiles ends up pulling the shower head out of the wall, a waterfall of water hitting him in the face as he screams.

Melissa calls a neighbor, who happens to be a plumber, and Stiles sits dejected at the McCalls kitchen table, staring at his bent fork and spoon, eating his eggs with his fingers.

"I have to go to work, but later? You’re explaining whatever it is that’s going on, no ifs, ands, or buts. Got it?"

Stiles nods fast, and he can smell the underlying worry and panic, he assumes, under the overwhelming cucumber melon wafting in the air around Melissa. (And wow, he never realized how nice Scott’s mom smelled until now, and wow, he wants to forget that for the next century.)

*

Stiles decides to run to his house, and it’s the most exhilarating experience of his life next to his very first blowjob. (It was a big deal, okay?)

Scott answers the door, glaring at Stiles.

"You ran here, didn’t you?"

"Of course I did!" Stiles bounds inside his house. Every single smell hits him at once and he doubles over, falling to his knees.

"Stiles!" Scott runs over to him, still getting used to moving around in Stiles’ body, gently touching his shoulder.

"I didn’t know the afghan still smelled like her," Stiles whispers.

Scott rubs Stiles’ back until he’s calm enough to sit down.

"I don’t know how this happened," Stiles admits, looking at himself through Scott’s eyes, and wow, he needs to trim his hair a little. Maybe buy some new clothes.

"That punch we drank at your party tasted really funky."

"It wasn’t the punch! Charlie made it himself. My roommate wouldn’t poison me."

Scott mumbles something incoherent under his breath.

"The fuck?" Stiles looks at Scott, bewildered. "I fucking heard that, dude. Are you jealous of Charlie?"

"No!" Scott says defensively. "Maybe?"

Stiles arches an eyebrow. “If you lie I’ll know, dude.”

"Oh you suddenly have wolf powers and _oh ho ho_ , you’ll know when I’m lying. Fuck you, Stiles.”

"What the fuck, Scott?" Stiles waves his hands around. "This is literally the weirdest fucking thing to happen to the both of us, and instead of finding a solution, or, I don’t know, teaching me something about how to handle your wolf powers, you’re jealous of my goddamn roommate!"

"I already called Deaton," Scott says with a mumble. "He’s looking into it; he’ll call us as soon as possible."

Stiles glares at Scott.

Scott glares back, standing up and stomping upstairs to his, no, Stiles’ room.

"It isn’t even your bedroom!" Stiles yells, following. "You can’t stomp off to a room that’s not yours!"

"I’ll fucking stomp wherever I want!" Scott yells back.

Stiles bursts into his bedroom, and yeah, his room reeks. No wonder Derek avoided his room so much. How the hell does Scott handle this?

"Jesus Christ, my room fucking stinks. Why did you never tell me?"

"It smells fine to me," Scott says, slumping on Stiles’ desk chair. "It smells like you. I like — I like it."

Stiles doesn’t miss the way Scott’s cheeks redden, tips of his ears doing the same, and he smells something new, something inherently Scott, it’s musky and earthy, and Stiles really likes it. He, _fuck_ , he likes it a lot.

"You… you smell different."

"Different how?" Scott asks.

"Well, downstairs, you smelled what I think worried smells like, kinda tangy, I don’t know. And then when I mentioned Charlie it was bitter and jealous, and now it’s—"

"You’re sensing my emotions, Stiles. It’s normal. It seems like all the feelings have a smell, and maybe they do, but you’re sensing my emotions."

Stiles open and closes his mouth, Scott’s mouth, still confused.

"Yeah, but, you smell, I don’t know. Aroused?" And then everything clicks into place in Stiles’ perfectly stupid, confused brain, looking at Scott closely.

"You don’t like Charlie."

"Stiles—"

"You don’t like Charlie because we fooled around a couple times, and dated for, like, two weeks."

"No, Stiles—"

"You don’t like Charlie because you like me. Holy shit, you like me."

Scott looks away, face burning, embarrassed, staring at his hands, Stiles’ hands, and Stiles’ long, tapered fingers. These fingers that he’s imagined touching him, curling in his hair, scratching down his back, digging into his hips. He isn’t aware of Stiles standing in front of him until Stiles leans down, kissing him softly, his hand squeezing the back of his neck, Stiles’ neck.

It’s way too weird, but oh god, Stiles really doesn’t care. Somehow they end up on his bed, his goddamn childhood bed, and his best friend, Scott McCall, is kissing him as he rubs a hand against his dick.

Stiles makes a pained noise, teeth catching on Scott’s chin, his chin. Fuck, this is so weird.

"This is so weird," Stiles pants.

"And yet, my dick is really into it," Scott admits.

Stiles laughs breathlessly, moaning when Scott’s mouth, his mouth, starts kissing him again, pulling away to moan louder when Scott gets a hand wrapped around his cock -- wait, whose cock? Stiles can’t keep track, he doesn’t care, everything feels amazing, Scott smells so fucking good, and he wants to touch Scott’s dick too.

"We need to — We have to—" Stiles pants faster, fucking into the tight circle of Scott’s hand. "Oh, fuck, Scott, don’t stop."

"Don’t plan on it," Scott murmurs against Stiles’ cheek, his cheek, hand stroking faster, fingers squeezing. "Touch me, Stiles."

And he does, god, does he ever. Stiles reminds himself that he’s actually touching his own dick, but who gives a shit, it’s Scott in his body asking him to do it so nothing matters.

They get each other off quick enough, come spilling between them thick and sticky. Stiles wipes his hand off on his bed; Scott wipes his hand off on Stiles’ shirt.

"Dude, really?" Stiles asks, laughing.

"It’s my shirt, I don’t care."

After a quick cleanup in the bathroom, Deaton calls, telling them he has a fix, and whenever they’re ready to stop by his office. They head over in Stiles’ Jeep, (Scott driving), and it should be awkward, this thing, whatever it is, between them, but it isn’t. Stiles reaches over, squeezing Scott’s hand, his hand, and Scott smiles over at him, linking their fingers together.

"It was the punch," Deaton explains. "Scott, you mentioned the violet color and how it smelled like tangerines, which I’ve seen used before in another bodyswap case."

"I’m not even going to ask," Scott says, "but you can fix it, that’s all we care about." (Scott knew it had to be Charlie, and when he finds him he’s going to punch him in the face.)

"I mixed the same punch, but I added the antidote to swap you both back. The effects should wear off in a couple hours, it needs to work itself into your bloodstream."

Stiles gags after drinking the whole glass.

"That does not taste like tangerines, it tastes like ass," Stiles says, coughing.

When they leave, Scott tugs Stiles back a little, smiling ruefully.

"It was cool, being human, again," Scott says, looking down at his shoes, Stiles’ shoes. "Being with you, for the first time, and being… human. It was — It was nice."

Stiles steps closer, mouth aligning itself with Scott’s, tongue licking across the seam of his lips until Scott parts his mouth, and Stiles surges right into it. His hands squeeze and cling to Scott, fingers coming up to tug through his hair, and Stiles can smell all the emotions pouring off of Scott. He can feel the rabbit pace of his pulse, taste the sweetness of his tongue against his, and Stiles thinks he might sense something close to love, and he kisses Scott harder.

Scott’s head is spinning, he feels light-headed, but he also feels warm, sighing against Stiles’ mouth, his mouth, whatever. This is his first, real human kiss with Stiles, and he knows he’s going to remember it for a long time. His hands curl around Stiles’ biceps, his biceps, whatever, it’s Stiles, and he feels good under his hands, and he tastes even better.

"Stay over tonight," Scott murmurs.

"Thought you’d never ask." Stiles grins, going in for another knee buckling, toe curling kiss.

*

"Scott, have you—"

Stiles yelps, rolling off the bed.

Scott sits up fast, bunching the sheet around his waist, because of course his best friend wasn’t giving him a fantastic morning blowjob.

Stiles peeks over the edge of the bed, trying to hide his nakedness.

"Boys," Melissa says slowly, trying hard not to grin. "Stiles, your dad was worried, but I see that you’re exactly where I thought you’d be."

"Na—naked on Scott’s bedroom floor?"

Melissa shrugs, and just as she’s closing door, she opens it back up, giving them a stern look.

"Scott, we’re talking about this later. But for now, just, be careful? You already know what I’m going to say," she says, smiling tightly. "You’re washing your bed linen from now on."

When she leaves, Stiles glances at Scott, smiling sheepishly.

"That… wasn’t embarrassing at all."

Scott gives him a heated look, lifting the sheet.

"Get back under here and finish what you started."

"You’re not the alpha of me."

"Stiles," Scott growls.

"Okay, maybe I’m a little into it."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr; archiving here for reasons. I _just_ posted not 2 days ago, but I'm off work for a month so this is my way of celebrating. Huzzah!
> 
> Thanks to [Molly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyHime/pseuds/Stilinskis) for the beta. <3
> 
> Me on [Tumblr](http://ionsquare.tumblr.com), come say hi! :)


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